so
totally
not
true.
but it is raining.
and I am happy.
of course, i'm generally happy these days--unless i'm hungover or sleep deprived.
aw, fuck it, i'm happy then too, just grouchy.
or mind numbingly bitchy...
i love my new hair color.
it's more what i was going for last time.
i liked how it turned out last time, even though it was a lot more red than i had imagined.
this time it's really really dark.
hopefully i'll get a good picture to actually depict the color.
and hopefully the purple will wash off my scalp.
yeah, it's noon here.
no, i haven't showered.
i've become increasingly lazy about that lately, and i'm sticking with my original defense: my kids interupt me constantly, which sucks the pleasure out of it.
and no, i don't necessarily mean that kind of pleasure.
it's just not relaxing.
one of you oh so sarcastically suggested i may want to start locking the door.
fuck you.
...but you're right.
and i think i will.
it'll only suck the first time or two, while they bang on the door the whole time, crying...
makes me squirm just to think about it.
do i spoil my kids?
um.
i plead the fifth.
...and i wouldn't mind having a fifth...
oh!
the story i wrote the other day.
i love this story, i don't know why.
and, as always, remember these are done off the cuff.
no second draft, no major editing.
all i do is read it over quickly to make sure there are no typos or major mistakes.
that's me--
(I was having trouble coming up with a fantasy friday)
i'll put on some tunes, maybe that'll help.
....so far so good....
(for the record, it was Bush, Chemicals Between Us when i started writing and i have no idea why that song inspired this)
this song is taking me away...
to a room, lit mostly by candles, incense burning.
a mattress on the floor, tapestries on the wall.
a sooty, unused fireplace, low windows.
creaking wooden floor.
it's my turn, i breathe in--hold it, exhale.
cough, cough, cough--burning my lungs.
i look around slowly for my glass of water, slowly.
i see it, grasp it.
forget to drink it.
the music is loud, his eyes are close to me, his knee resting against my thigh.
i wonder if he is still with the girl he met when i moved away, leaving him forlornly behind.
he hasn't mentioned her.
the cd is skipping.
we both look at the stereo.
for a long time, lost in the rhythm of the repeating note.
he stretches his body across the floor and touches a button.
i cock my head and smile, the realization like warm soup, slowly making its way inward: skipping cd; fixed.
he stays where he is, sprawled across the cold floor.
i begin to think he is asleep.
i crawl toward him, on all fours, suddenly afraid he is dead.
he sits up, hits his head on the edge of a dresser, curses--all slowly, like walking in thick mud.
we laugh at his hand rubbing his sore head.
then i realize the laughter stopped, and i don't remember how long ago, or why it started.
just his eyes.
green.
we've been sitting looking at each other for a long time.
i try to remember her name, so i can ask him.
he becomes defensive, turns away.
i stand to leave, unsteadily.
leaving again? he says.
bitterly.
i turn back to him, confused, but losing the haze.
--i'm here.
he pulls me down.
don't leave again....are you going to? don't...
without you nothing's right--everything's purple, green, orange--inside out, upside down....
i can't.
i can't.
you have to stay.
he is rambling, saying these words softly into my hair.
i feel them more than i hear them.
i thought them before he said them--before i even knew i would see him.
we both cry and don't smile yet, but find each other's lips.
home.
my soul is home.
**********
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